


Watch Him Burn

by Underestimated_amateur



Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: How Warren sees Nathan, I tried to be poetic okay, M/M, Sad, Second POV, Warren's POV, implied major character death, implied/established relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-23
Updated: 2016-05-23
Packaged: 2018-06-10 08:20:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6947434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Underestimated_amateur/pseuds/Underestimated_amateur
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Strangely enough, everyone describes him as a whale, swimming it's heart content. </p><p>But you've looked at him and always seen heat, and flames, and warmth, and light.<br/>And it's surreal that Nathan Prescott could be any of those things.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Watch Him Burn

You love him. 

 

Strangely enough, everyone describes him as a whale, swimming it's heart content. 

But you've looked at him and always seen heat, and flames, and warmth, and light.  
And it's strange that Nathan Prescott could be any of those things. 

But to you he is.

 

Sometimes he's the first spark of fire, the lucky flick that gets something going. Sometimes it takes forever to see, taking mounts of patience. You have to take care of him, one small breeze could destroy him. He becomes something you want to protect, but so fragile in his time. He's seen as something insignificant, but has the power to create something bigger than himself, if only he ever believed that.

Sometimes he's like a low burning scrap of wood. He burns silently by himself. Small warmth, little light, so easy to ignore, so easy to put out. But he burns still. He could start a fire, could ignite other woods with his flames. He could spread his warmth to others around him like a hot domino effect. You're not sure he will, though.

Sometimes he is an ember shooting up into the sky. Like a firefly in a starless night. You think people do not understand the beauty there, the beauty to him, you're not sure he does either. He leaves everything behind in the fire to drift upward. He is tiny, a mere speck, but rises as if he has a purpose. Your eyes trail after him, watching him go. Then he disappears suddenly. He's gone and you're left wondering where he went. 

Sometimes he is the small light to the cigarettes he smokes. The low burning flame kills and the smoke he creates throws you into a fit of choking and gagging because you can't stand that stuff. You hate it. You hate when he's like this; slowly destroying himself. He won't stop, even when the burnt of the smell brings wetness to your doe brown eyes. You try to keep them from rolling down your cheeks.

Sometimes he is like fire. He's bright, hot, and quick to burn others around him if they are stupid enough to try and touch. He is noticeable, a light in the dark. Like a beacon in the night. He is strong. He is feared by many. Others are at awe with him. In a way, he is comfort to you, sharing his warmth again. He is terrifying yet undeniably remarkable. 

Sometimes he's like smoke. Black, dark, with emotions thick and suffocating. Light, but dangerous with the risk of crushing your lungs. You can't see through him, he makes your eyes hurt, stinging with tears. It's all too much. A warning that something is wrong, something is being destroyed. Sometimes all you can do is watch everything burn. 

One time he was like ash. There is no more fire, or warmth, or dangerous, or comfort. Only the ugly aftermath of himself. He is weak and can so easily slip through your fingertips. The cinder stains your skin a cruel black. It's a disgusting feel and smell that makes your stomach churn and mouth run dry. The vibrant hues of orange, yellow, red, blue are gone, leaving behind an awful dark gray. It's saddening, having no longer light. 

 

You watch as his ashes are swept away with the wind. As he is carried away, as if he was never even there, you try to think of the times he was a spark, a low burning scrap of wood, a ember shooting up into the night sky, and magnificent flames of a fire. You cry as you remember him going up in smoke. 

Then he was ash. 

 

Now he is gone.

**Author's Note:**

> *Dumps this load of crap here and walks away*
> 
>  
> 
> Comment? Let me know what you think!
> 
> [2/28/16 EDIT: I posted this as original work on this app called Hermit Library as well, just so there are no misunderstandings.]


End file.
